


Of Two Minds About Mages

by Fan_by_Proxy (orphan_account)



Series: Mahariel, Mage of the Circle [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mind Games, Mind Rape, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:18:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3960658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Fan_by_Proxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taught from youth to fear his mage charges, and overwhelmed with desire for one charge pushes one man to the breaking point and past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For Want of a Star

     The Knight-Commander had been clear and curt. 'Get her down and remand her back to quarters!' Another one of the elflings had managed to scale stone walls and was sitting on the slim ledge. The opening was too slim for an escape but it was a flagrant violation of rules and apparently this particular mage-to-be was a regular flouter; if she were not one of Gregoir's pets, she would be well on her way to being made Tranquil. Cullen was certain he knew exactly who was going where she wasn't supposed to go.

     And he was right, as he ascended the staircase and found a small brown slipper halfway up. Its rabbit fur-lining was nearly worn away, the seam at the toes stitched and restitched. "Mahariel! Get down this instant."

     "Hullo Cullen." She replied with a sigh. It was faint and girlish, more dreamy than disappointed.

     He didn't _like_ that sigh. Didn't like how it made his stomach quiver, for the Maker's sake! "You know you can't be up like that, you're already on thin ice with the Knight Commander." he pressed back against the railing until he could just see her outline in the window; just coming into her womanly curves, hair undone and slung over her shoulder. "Besides, what if you were to fall?"

     "I would most likely bounce." she replied, voice hinting at a giggle. "I can almost see a star from here Cullen. I think it might be made of diamonds."

     He sighed. "Mahariel--

     "Suri."

     "Mahariel--

     "Su-ri." She insisted.

     Cullen had to smile. "Suri, come down, please? There's plenty of safer places to sit and look at the stars."

     "Not _the_ stars Cullen, _a_ star. And last I checked, the only observation holes were at the top of the tower, where I'm not allowed to go." She replied mournfully. "Just another minute, please?"

     "You know I can't. Now come down to me before you make more trouble for yourself." he said softly. "If you'll be a good girl and come down to me, I will make it up to you." Cullen pleaded. He could see her shifting on the slim ledge; she would come to him eventually, she always did. The others of the Order, they would make a grab, rough her for the insolence; but he knew better. Coax an elfling as you would a kitten, and you would be rewarded with cooperation.

     "How?" Mahariel asked, even as she pointed both feet in his direction and slid down, trusting him to catch.

     Catch he did, though his breath was startled short at the glimpse of slim ankles and shapely calves. Her hips were starting to round, he felt the curves slide through his hands; tightening his grip around her waist he realized that she had come to that age when it would not do for someone to come upon the pair of them alone together, so closely and tightly pressed. "You'll just have to be a good girl and--Maker what is that on your face?" Any lustful thinkings were doused icy cold by concern. He set her on the steps, licking his thumb and scrubbing at the blue scrolling lines on her cheek. "Have you been into Bethel's enchanted inks again?!"

     "No Cullen." she replied, twisting her face left and right to escape his ministrations. "It's _vallaslin_. The Dalish writing." she added. "It won't come off, it's mine now."

     "...Andraste's flaming cuticles, what did you do?! You were only loose for three months! And you're only sixteen!" He chided, taking firm hold of her arm to pull her down the stairs.

     "I went--and I found the Dalish--it's not hard if you know how not to look for them--their Keeper was very nice--you know they accept magic? I worked with their healer--they said I could stay--" she huffed as he pulled her along. "When Dormin came--he said--he threatened--Cullen let go!" she swatted at his shoulder with her free hand.

     The tinny sound of a small hand slapping armor and her sudden resistance caught him by surprise. He stopped, turning to face her again. "What Suri, what?"

     "He said that I could either come along willingly, or they would take me by force. My friends, people who barely knew me, they drew arms. Against Templars. They were willing to die to defend me. I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let such a loss be my fault...bless his lazy heart at least, he decided we would leave in the morning. Amin and Saliya got my guards drunk, and helped me slip into the Keeper's aravel. She said I was truly Dalish, that I understood my place with the People. I earned my vallaslin."

     Cullen swallowed. Dormin was no great favorite of his; the man was rough, and there were...ugly rumors about how short his patience was with mages. Of course all mages tended to view their Templar guards as brutes and beasts but...it was hard to stare into such lovely deep blue eyes and maintain disbelief. "So you let her mark your face? I just don't understand you Maha--"

     Her fingers, slim and warm, pressed against his lips. Suddenly his nerves were aflame, too strong; he could feel every whorl and dimple on her fingertips, taste the pulse beating underneath the skin. Cullen fancied he could even taste the magic that made her--made others like her--so separate.

     "Suri." she said quietly. "You missed a spot grooming." she added, lightly touching the prickle of hair just above his lip. It was still fair and thin enough to miss...unless of course you were touching it.

     "You should...get to bed. Before the Knight-Commander loses his patience on us both." he managed faintly, even if it meant ever-so-slightly kissing her fingertips. Purely accidental, that his lips did brush against them as he spoke.

     "Remember that you promised to make it up to me. Remember that Cullen." she said as she slid away from him, soundless as a spirit crossing the Fade, into the apprentices' dormitory.

     Cullen turned away sharply, managing only two calm steps before he was running for the templars' quarters; he tried to blame the beating of his heart against his ribs on the run. It was just exertion that made his heart race and his hands tremble and his head swim. Just exertion. Just the exertion...


	2. Dreams

     Another night, another angry demand to pull an elfling from a window.  He hoped the Knight-Commander wasn't sending him because of the rumors that he had a rapport with some of the female mages.  That kind of rumor could ruin a career.  No, no if it was who it usually was, perhaps the Knight-Commander's insistence came in Gregoir's voice.  The old mage missed very little amongst the students, and he could at least be counted on not to accuse unjustly.

     Rounding the Tower stairs, halfway up to the worn leather slipper on the step.  This time the toe had been mended with bright red thread.  "I see you've been at work again."

     "Hullo Cullen.  No stars tonight, but the sky's a pretty shade of dark."

     He sighed and raised his arms up to her.  "Suri, come down.  You know better; we do this so much."

     "Do you ever wonder Cullen?"  Her voice was soft and dreamy, as it always was when she managed to get her seat by the little window.  

     "Wonder what?" he tried not to snap.  What went on in that girl's head was beyond him, it stayed beyond him, and he frankly did not care.  No, he certainly did not care and found it quite aggravating to be called on constantly to pull her down from her illegal seat.  And he didn't wonder.  About anything.  Ever.  

     "What your life might be like, if you weren't here."

     "Why would I wonder at that?"  The exasperation in his voice was genuine that time.  

     "I suppose it wouldn't matter for you.  You're a man.  You could be a farmer, or a soldier; a Knight or a merchant.  You could even be hairdresser to the Queen of Antiva, if you had a knack for braids and political intrigue."  The smile she turned on him was bitterly sad, too old for round plump cheeks.  

     His arms faltered, just a little.  "What's brought this on Suri?" He couldn't help but coo and waggle his fingers just a little.  He was just coaxing down an elfling, that's all.

     "Just a bad dream, that's all.  I like to come up here when that happens, when the Tower's all quiet like it is.  See if I can't find a star to look at."  At that, she slid down into his arms, hands finding his shoulders.  

     It was just exertion; the live being in his arms had weight, had measure.  He was just taxing himself, always catching her from the window.  That's why his heart raced.  "What sorts of bad dreams?" he asked when he meant to say 'you cannot break a rule every time you cannot sleep'.

     "I think I dreamed of my mother.  It's always a face I barely know, a song I can barely hear, and the tree.  You know I was brought here very young, just another magical orphan.  I don't think my mother abandoned me though; these shoes that you're so keen to find, these little slippers of mine...they're Dalish after all.  They're all I have to my name and all I have to link me back to those times I can't remember.  And sometimes those realizations make it very hard to sleep."  

     The end of her nose was pink, her lips trembling.  Unshed tears made her eyes seem even deeper and darker than usual.  They were more dangerous than the waters around the Tower.  

     "Cullen, whatever are you doing?"

     He startled, realizing how very close their faces were, how very bitter the herbal components that must be in her pockets smelled.  "To bed with you." he barked, drawing back sharply.  He wouldn't walk her this time; he couldn't risk falling under that spell again.

 

    "Good night....Cullen."

     It was not until her steps retreated into silence that his heart finally slowed down.  Cullen forced himself to his place in the barracks, trying desperately not to think on deep blue eyes or what sort of wound magic was for mages.  It wasn't his place to think on those things, after all.


	3. Promises

     He avoided her for three weeks after that, so mortified of his own behavior.  A Templar did not make such gestures at a mage and a grown man--all of 21!--did not make googly eyes at a 16 year old apprentice!  To her credit, Mahariel did not require removing from her perch in those three weeks, and he was almost comfortable enough to write off the whole incident to...to a combination of exasperation and exhaustion.

     And then the order came in.  Fetch the mage down, make her understand by _any means_   _necessary_ that the behavior was not to continue, or sterner measures would be taken.  The threat of sterner measures had him running up the stairs to the halfway point.  "Mahariel _get down this instant_ the Knight-Commander has had enough of this foolishness and you test even Gregoir's patience!"  Cullen jumped, bracing against the wall for balance, hoping his feet would support them both evenly, even on the steps.  He managed to wrap a hand around her ankle.

     "Hullo Cull--" the greeting was lost in a startled shriek.

     The world became a kaleidoscope of colors; the grey of the walls not quite the same gray as the stairs, gleaming red that he could not account for, soft fluffy pink--Mahariel had been in the beets again, rebelling by turning her fair locks unnatural shades!  He couldn't breathe, and there were stars in his eyes.  They seemed to be coming from his wrist and arm...which were currently folded in the wrong direction on the floor.  "Andraste's puckered arsehole!" he spat as he struggled to get to his hands and knees.  "Mahariel--Suri!  Where are you?"

     "I'm ok, I'm here!" the reply was faint but reassuring.  He managed to raise his head, despite great protest from his neck, to see her arch and sit up slowly.  There was a great bloody gash in her forehead, and she swayed where she sat.  "You, are you--oh dear, oh my--oh hold still Cullen, don't move, I can fix this, I _can_." 

     "Hush."  It was a command; a rare firm word from a soft mouth.  She made him sit properly on the landing, kneeling between his legs, running her hands along his mangled arm.  "This will hurt, at first, but you'll be glad of me." she said as she began to coax his elbow back towards its natural bend.

     Bile rose thick and fast in his throat and the stars were back in his eyes.  His arm burned, it sang with pain...but slowly, slowly the burn cooled.  He could focus, and he realized her fingertips, her precious little fingertips, were glowing blue and the magic that was so unwelcome in the world was slipping into him and righting his injuries.  "But...your staff..." he managed.

     "Healing's better hands-on, sometimes.  Better for directing the magic.  The Keeper taught me that."  she murmured.  "Besides, don't you know healing is a woman's art?  Unless it's for the battlefield."  She made a little noise at that; not quite a snort.  It might have been sarcasm. 

     He wasn't quite sure what to make of that.  Was she regularly sarcastic?  He didn't think so.  She might make jokes with the other apprentices, tease the children, pull harmless pranks on her dorm-mates, but he couldn't recall much sarcasm from those little lips.  Maybe she was one of those who saved her most cutting remarks for the inside of her head.  

     "I know it hurts Cullen but you've got to trust me; I won't risk a soldier losing his livelihood to a staircase.  That'd just be embarassing." She smiled; he must've been pulling faces as he wondered over her nature.

     He laughed a little, cheered at the curve of her lips.  "You're right.  It'd be downright mortifying, I could never show my face anywhere near here again."  There were popping sounds, nasty sounds wet sounds as bone and flesh knitted back proper.  He could ignore it though, ignore it in favor of trying to wipe at the trickle above her eye.  "I'm so sorry--there was--I was worried." he admitted.

     "Were they threatening to board up the window?" she asked as she straightened his fingers.  

     "Among other means of keeping you down."

     She sighed.  "All I want's a bit of light to watch, is that so bad?  You all can come and go through the doors as you please, go across the lake to that little inn, talk to people.  I just want a bit of light to watch.  I'm not going to leave again, I won't risk the People."

     Cullen flexed his freshly healed hand, then brought it to her cheek.  He wasn't checking the nerves; he wanted to touch her.  To comfort her.  Wrestling with the wrongness of his feelings would have to wait for later.  "Oh Suri...."

     The smile she gave him was small and tender as she brushed a hand across her own forehead, clearing up much of the blood and closing the gash in a few blue sparks.  "Cullen, will you kiss me this time?"

     His breath caught in his throat; the blood was roaring in his ears.  "If you promise to keep down from the window."  He managed.

     She nodded.  "But you'll have to keep reminding me." It was a little challenging, that whisper.

     He felt his heart jump.  "Don't be thick." he whispered even as she inched closer.  "Don't be thick Suri." he repeated just before their lips met.  Soft and sweet and clumsy, something that played at a kiss.  Neither of them knew what they were doing.  It didn't matter.

     That night he walked her back to the dormitories.  Slowly, carefully.  Any way to draw the journey out.  They couldn't have another kiss, not with so many curious eyes on the other side of the door.  But the desire was there, and that...that was something special.


	4. Time Progresses

     Furtive kisses in corners, notes tucked behind stones, dropped into tankards and rescued before the parchment melted; a careful, tentative dance of desire that he saw culminating in a furtive rut in a store closet.  Every day was a little more dangerous, a little sweeter, and all of it happening in secret.  Oh there were rumors sure, and they'd been seen once, by some apprentice named Jordan or Joban or something like that.  Suri assured him with so many little feathery kisses that the apprentice would not run to Gregoir or the Knight-Commander.  Life was wonderful in that time, when neither of them held rank or import and they mattered most to each other.


	5. Harrowing Indeed

     Then the Knight-Commander called Cullen before him.  "You and the elf-mage, Mahariel.  You two have something of a rapport, do you not?" he demanded.

     "We have a passing acquaintanceship." he managed, even as he quaked inside.  This was it, they were caught.  He was disgraced and would face ridicule and Suri...he didn't know what happened to the mages who were dallied.  He'd never thought to find out.

     "She's to be Harrowed.  Tomorrow night." the Knight-Commander reported brusquely.

     Cullen squared his shoulders, hands behind his back.  "Then I volunteer for duty sir."

     "Oh you do, do you?"  The Knight-Commander raised an eyebrow. 

     Maker help him, what rumors were going around?  Had Josun opened his mouth?!  "Yes sir.  The Tower must be protected at all costs."  he parroted back.

     The Knight-Commander nodded.  "Very good.  You'll have the duty of execution then.  Dismissed."

     Cullen nodded, folded his salute, and left the office.  He wouldn't be able to see her tonight.  No, tonight was the night for quiet, solitary contemplation and prayer to the Maker.  He was already muttering "See her through this Maker" under his breath.  
  
     She seemed so small, sandwiched between Marvus and Don.  Not even fully awake, lashes fluttering as she blinked to focus on the words spoken at her.  Gregoir had her pulled aside; he seemed to be muttering assurances.  The Knight-Commander broke in, as he rightly should.  The test was for the apprentice after all.  Cullen was still praying fervently in his mind as he watched his elfling approach the lyrium fount.  She dipped her hand in, managing the tiniest of sips as the rest ran down her wrist.  He could not dart forward, could not catch her as she fell to the floor.  Whatever she was going through, she would have to do it on her own.  
  
     He was loitering in the hall, nodding curtly to his fellows, ignoring the mages who in turn ignored him.  She would be moved to these quarters, earning a little piece of her own space.  That would make her happy; no windows and no stars, but proper mages had a few more freedoms...that'd work out better for them.  And thinking on those few extra freedoms had him utterly distracted for the moment. 

     "Hullo Cullen."

     Cullen startled, ashamed to have been caught off guard because of intimate fancy.  "Oh--Mahari--Suri.  how are you?"

     "I'm well...quite...well." She replied, hands clasped behind her back.  It emphasized how much had changed of her shape in two years.  It was not a good way for her to stand, even covered ankle to neck by robes.

     "I'm.  Glad.  That your Harrowing went so well." he coughed.  "I was there you know, to um...if you had failed..." _why_ was he telling her this?  _Why_ was his mouth still moving?

     "Would you...really have struck me down?"

     Cullen swallowed.  "Believe me I would have found no joy in it." he replied heatedly.  "But it would've had to been done, if you had turned into a...a..an...an Abomi...Abomination."  _By the Maker_ his mouth was so dry!

     "I was wondering if we might discuss something.  In private." her eyes glittered, the corners of her mouth turning up. 

     He blushed, unnerved.  What had gone on in the Fade; she was there, before him, suddenly confident, suddenly brazen...did he like this change in her?  "I-i-i-in private?"

     "Just for a moment." she murmured.

     A mage was coming up the hall.  Cullen grit his jaw, giving a curt nod and gesturing sharply to the doorway of her new quarters.  She didn't miss a beat, nailing him with a cold look and passing under the archway in a huff.  He followed, casting another look behind him as she slipped behind the partition for her new quarters. 

     Alone, _finally_ , blissfully alone!  Cullen pressed her against the wall, hands on her hips, digging into the curves that had bloomed even in the shade of the Tower.  Her hands were on him, nails raking through his hair, mouth open and hot and hungry.  His tongue delving into her mouth even as their hips ground together; he wanted her, he needed her at the deepest point but there wasn't time right now, there wasn't time, he would have to tease her with a promise, give her his tongue until he could give her his cock. 

     They were both gasping when the kiss broke off, clinging to each other desperately, in pantomime of the frantic love-making they both wish they'd been doing instead of just illicit kisses in a dark corner.  "I have to go...and see Gregoir."  her lips were swollen, cheeks crimson.

     He bit at her lips, lightly, because he could, because he wanted to.  "Wait.  I have something for you." 

     Her eyes lit up.  "Oh?  I bet I know what it is."

     He ignored the ribald smirk, pulling away slowly to reach into his chest plate.  Hidden in a scrap of linen was something like a promise.  "Do you remember when I promised you a star of your own?"

     "Something along those lines, yes." Suri replied faintly, patting her cheeks and hair.  A giggle escaped her.  "I do, yes."

     Cullen unfolded the scrap; dangling at the end of a bit of old chain was a little green stone, polished smooth save for the starburst crack at its center.  "I found this on the lake's shore."

     "Oh _Cullen_..." she breathed, taking it from him slowly, chain slipping through her fingers. 

     He wanted to hear that sigh again in a much different context.  "Have I kept my promise?"

     She giggled again, and nodded.  "Help me clasp it.  Our little secret will be safe under my robes." 

     He chuckled, appreciating the curls at the base of her neck as she lifted her hair out of the way.  It was still a ridiculous and unnatural shade, and there was indeed a lecherous part of him that wondered if she didn't color all her curls.  But there was time later to find out. 

     Suri slipped from him, his gift nestled firmly between her breasts.  If he'd know that was the last time he'd have to hold her and tease her, he would've thought to make it last longer...  
  



	6. Fantasy Gone Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that most of the tags and warnings apply to; skip if you need to.

     "Oh _Cullen_!" 

     He bucked, eyes screwed shut.  There was no one with him, he did not hear her voice squealing with delight, there was nothing hot and wet wrapped around his cock he was not thrusting like an animal!  None of it was real, none of it was happening.  He wasn't lying in her bed, fucking fast and dirty  with her ankles behind his neck and her nails leaving ragged marks down his cheeks. 

     "But you could be Cullen, we could be happy together, you want me, you know how long I've wanted you?"

     "By all that is holy BE GONE!"  He howled. 

     The silence was deafening.  His ears rang with it; he'd never understood when the old timers talked about silence not being that silent.  But blessed Andraste at least he wasn't being bombarded with filth.  Warping everything he knew of the Tower, of the world.  He was alone again, dry and alone.  This was his fault; he had not been vigilant enough, hadn't trained well enough, had let himself be distracted by...by...

     "Cullen, sweetheart, my love...don't you ever think of me anymore?  Imagine me, lying in my little bed at night, so cold and alone...thinking of your lips, how firm they are.  Do you know how many times my fingers slid down this belly that you so loved to pinch, slid down to my cunny you never got to taste and just pinched myself to orgasm whispering your name?"

     "I SAID BEGONE DEMON!"  he bellowed.

     This time, silence.  Merciful silence.  Now he could hear screaming from the Harrowing chamber.  Not all the mages were dead, not yet.  And until every last blasted mage in the Maker's kingdom was dead, he would be stuck here.  Stuck behind a wall that burned to touch, taunted with her voice, her scent, the silly little giggle of excitement.  If these demons ever figured out her taste, he was lost.  It was the only thing that kept him from sinking into the fantasies; they could make him feel so much but it wasn't the same without the taste of her tongue in his mouth!

     "Cullen!"

     He almost wept; it sounded so much like her, it always did, in the beginning.  But it was never her.  Cullen opened his eyes to glare balefully at the demon and was startled.  It was his elfling and yet not her.  She was fair-haired again, no trace of beet juice to be seen.  The ends were raggedly cut, uneven; the staff in her hand no mere lump of wood but it was a sword.  She even wore a little set of armor; it was wild and out of place for a mage.

     "Hold on, I'm getting you out of there!"

     Cullen snarled, reaching for her throat.  He would burn his fingers again but the pain would keep him steady, would strengthen his resolve.  Pain was all that kept him from turning like the others had.  But there was no burn; the barrier shattered, and his hand managed to close on her neck.  Her slim little neck where the pulse beat hot and hard against his thumb and fingers.  "You witch, you lying little demon whore."  he threw himself at her, falling heavily onto her, other hand joining the first around her throat.

     " _Cu-llen_!" she managed to squeak, eyes wide and teary.

     "I will not fall!  Not for you, not for anything!  I am a servant of Andraste, I am stronger than you!"

     Tears streamed from her eyes, her hands scrabbling weakly against his.  Her face was growing red and puffy, and still he squeezed.  He was aware, dimly, of the fire in his loins, of the need for release.  The demons had taunted, teased, sucked, licked, tortured--he'd earned the right to take her now, tempted as he was.  "Foul little whore, good-for-nothing mage, Blight on the whole of Thedas!" Cullen barked as he tore at himself with one hand, freeing his cock; it was painfully swollen, practically ready to burst...and there was nothing between him and that teasing cunt but a little strip of leather.  It came away easy, and he could at last sink into that body that had so long been his torment. 

     She was still conscious, body convulsing under his thrusts, though no noise could escape the throat he was so aptly crushing.  He was so close to finishing, so close to finally spilling over and the anticipation of relief made him move that much harder, driving her into the stone.  As his sac tightened, he slapped her...and she smiled. 

     "Maker _no_ \--" Cullen tried to pull away but her ankles locked behind his back; he was coming and the damned demon around his waist was laughing!  "You will not break me--I do not submit!" he screamed even as rage and energy drained from his body.  "I DO NOT SUBMIT!" he bellowed.

     The sensation; the clinging wet flesh, the press of thighs against his hips, it was gone.  The barrier was still there, still mocking him.  His seed was sticky and cold against his flesh but he was still himself.  Gratitude and exhaustion led him to rest his head in his hands, and weep.

  
  
     "Cullen!"

     He swore, vehemently, ferociously.  Every nasty term he'd ever overheard in the barracks, in the taverns, in the ale houses; he spewed them at that insipid little voice.  There would be no second mistake; no trick the demon could turn would ensnare him again.  He didn't care how fetchingly it appeared, how much it seemed like her; the templar who had loved a mage was dead.  And good riddance to him!

     "I--Cullen, it's me!  It's Suri, I don't--I'm going to get you out of there, you'll see!"

     "Be calm child.  The boy's been imprisoned and tortured, he's not in his right mind."  A second voice?  Another temptation?  HA!  As if a voice so old held any promise but a lecture.

     "I swear if there was ever anything human of you, you would kill me now and be done with it!"  Cullen shouted, raising his head.  He saw wide blue eyes with deep purple half moons under them;  he'd never seen those eyes so unrested.  There was blood all over her robes, cuts on her cheek.  Her robe was missing a sleeve and the staff she carried was missing its orb.  And this time, she had companions.

     A dullard, bearing a templar shield.  HA!

     An old mage in red robes, cleaner than his--cleaner than the temptation, watching him as if she knew everything.

     And another elf; some wild thing, the so-called blood ink on his cheek so similar to hers.  "I think our young friend here is in need of a good stiff drink."

     "I'm no friend of yours, now be gone!" Cullen barked, screwing his eyes shut.  He breathed, counted to three, and opened them.  "You're...still here...but that's always worked before!  I close my eyes and yet you are still here!" he wailed.

     "Cullen, it's really me, it's really me.  We're here to save you, to save anyone that's left!"  Suri replied, touching the barrier with her staff.  It sparked warningly, and she drew back even as the old mage touched her shoulder. 

     "What's been going on?" the old one said.

     "I can hear them...in the Harrowing chamber.  I can hear them screaming--you have to kill them all, you have to wipe out the blot on Thedas; would that we drowned all signs of magic as soon as they happened and kept ourselves safe!" Cullen shrieked.  He drew deep satsifaction that the face of temptation staggered back from him as if he'd hurled real stones at her.  "Demons, in my head, twisting everything--taunting me with my failures!  My dalliance--it was stupid, it was childish, it meant nothing but they still use it against me!"  Snot was starting to run over his lips.

     "Cullen--Cullen you don't mean--"

     "But I do you wretched little thing, you blasphemous little blight on everything good!" he spat.  "If you care anything for me at all you will go up there and kill them all!"

     She shook her head.  "I can't do that; I won't risk killing an innocent to satiate your bloodlust."

     He'd never heard her speak so strongly before, with such command.  If this was hi--if this was actually Mahariel, her time outside the Tower had firmed her up.  "Then you doom us all!  They're _blood mages_ you little fool, just one, just one in the ear of a Grand Cleric, of a king?!  It'd kill us all."

     "I won't murder blindly just to satiate your bloodlust Cullen," she repeated, "Period.  If anyone up there can be saved, they will be saved, and that's final."  She said it loudly, with squared shoulders and planted feet.  This was not the temptation come to mock him; it was indeed the mage cut loose from the Tower to be a Warden.  He couldn't bring himself to admire that though; admiration of her, of _it_ was what had brought him so low.  He would have warned the elf whose eyes had firmly locked on her buttocks to be wary, but frankly he didn't care enough to. Exhausted as he was, there was still a little more venom left to spit.

     "Then may the Maker have mercy on you, in that your pity hasn't doomed us all!"  
  



	7. An Ending?

     When the barrier fell, he fled.  Like a coward, past the corpses and the wreckage, past the Tranquil, all the way to the main door.  He'd wait there until they opened and pray that the Knight-Commander didn't see fit to take his head where he stood.  He wasn't infected, wasn't an abomination, wasn't...wasn't changed, not like the others.  He alone had stood against the blood magic and survived. 

     Mahariel didn't even look at him when she came limping by a great while later, with the First Enchanter weighing her down.  She didn't look at him when the argued with the Knight-Commander about the state of the tower; let her be confident that she and her motley crew had gotten rid of every last abomination, he would doubt.  He'd doubt to the end of his days!

     No, Mahariel only looked at him once; half a glance over her shoulder as she left the tower...just as she had the first time she'd been led away.  Not that he'd allowed himself to notice; it was a dalliance.  Merely a distraction; the lust of a young buck in presence of a willing doe, and that was _all_.  He would not permit himself to be distracted in such a way ever again.

 

     Cullen protested the conscription of the mages, to no avail.  The Knight-Commander half-promised/half-threatened to send him to the coast to recuperate.  He didn't need to recuperate, he _needed_ to get back to work.  The leashes must be tighter on mage necks; this could not be allowed to happen again.  Blight or no Blight, the mages _must_ be controlled; it was the Maker's will, after all.  Bile and venom had replaced much of the happiness in his heart; and the dull constant ache for a starry-eyed elf was buried beneath a fresh-born hatred of magic.


End file.
